Running Late
by JayRain
Summary: It's a typical morning commute, complete with coffee, talk radio, and a guy jumping out of a Hummer and causing a huge accident on the highway? Looks like Andrew's going to be late to work AGAIN. Though it might be tough to get his boss to buy this story...


_Author's Note: A friend posted a meme about when, in movies, a fight happens on top of a truck, people are just driving by like, whatever, it's all good. And of course, my mind got working and this happened._

* * *

 _Running Late_

Andrew hated the morning commute. He'd gotten up too late to make coffee at home, but the drive through line was actually pretty light, and if things weren't backed up on the loop, he would make it just in time to not catch shit for being late _and_ having not-from-home coffee. His boss could be such a dick about that sort of thing sometimes.

He knew he was cutting it close, especially with the way traffic had been since the crackdown looking for Captain America. He was pretty sure it was some sort of government bullshit, because come on, it was Captain America! He was the symbol of America and all that. He wouldn't just go rogue, right? Like most people working in Washington Andrew was an armchair politician though, and all he knew was that he was never going to meet the guy and if the light at the turn onto the highway didn't turn green right the hell _now_ , he was going to lose it.

The light did change a moment later, and he turned onto the ramp. He signalled and checked his mirrors. It was surprisingly light for this time of morning and he wondered if he'd finally caught a lucky commuting break. He flipped on the radio. More chatter about this Captain America thing, and SHIELD, and all sorts of covert shit he'd never know more about than what he heard on the radio or read on Twitter when his boss wasn't looking.

If this miraculous luck held he would probably be able to get to the building with minutes to spare, rather than the usual seconds, and just maybe he'd get the decent parking spot he'd been waiting for since he started his job there two years ago. He grabbed his coffee and took a tentative sip as he cruised down the freeway. It wasn't too hot, and it actually tasted pretty decent this morning. Maybe, just maybe his years as a Boy Scout were paying off with good karma. It was about damned time.

Two bulky black Hummers came up on his tail suddenly. One minute he was sipping coffee and watching his lane, the next this huge SUV was riding his ass. Andrew swerved into the next lane over, swearing and praying he didn't spill his coffee, and as a second thought praying he didn't cause an accident. _This black Humvee came up on my ass and scared me shitless,_ he rehearsed as he set his coffee back into the cup holder. But no one honked and his coffee was safe, and he sighed with relief.

Until a guy dressed all in black _climbed out of the Hummer's roof, slid down the fucking windshield, and launched himself on top of the silver sedan right in front of him._

Andrew swore and gripped the steering wheel. To stop in the middle of the highway would be unsafe, but he couldn't keep going and SHIT! The guy punched through the sedan's window, yanked another guy out and threw him into oncoming traffic. The screaming man slammed into an eighteen wheeler on the other side of the road, the biggest bug on a windshield Andrew would ever see.

He followed the car with the guy on top and fumbled around the passenger seat for his phone. Yeah, a hundred other people were probably calling 911 right now, but what was one more? He glanced down just long enough to see where his phone might be and looked up to see a _steering wheel_ come flying at his own windshield while the silver sedan swerved all over the road.

"What the hell!" Andrew screamed, jerking the wheel to the right. His coffee teetered dangerously in the cup holder. The steering wheel bounced off the upper left corner of his windshield, which crackled into a spider web of fractures down the driver's side. His insurance adjuster was going to love this, he could almost already hear that conversation when…

Holy. Shit. The guy in black was launched off the top of the car, which hit a barrier and flipped. The three people left inside flew out and slid down the pavement on a… shield? While the man in black slid in the opposite direction. He dropped his hand onto the tar and sparks flew up as his fingers dug into it. Andrew slammed on his brakes and pulled the wheel hard to the right to avoid hitting the guy. His car suddenly smelled of coffee as his cup tipped over and spilled all over the passenger side.

He should have pissed himself at this point, but instead he dug in the glove box for the small pad of paper and pen he kept there. "You are so paying my deductible!" he shouted at the man in black, who got up and began to swagger back toward the other car. The asshole didn't even have the decency to look at him! Andrew scanned the black Hummers, which had both stopped sideways, blocking the bridge. And lucky bastards, they had no license plates. Of course.

Andrew gripped the steering wheel for a long moment. Other cars had come to screeching halts behind him and the air was full of the _rat tat tat_ of automatic gunfire. His car smelled like coffee and his windshield was done for. And there was no getting over the bridge, so long as those Hummers were there.

He sighed. The woman in the car behind him was on her phone, probably calling law enforcement. Like everyone else. The lines would be jammed if he tried calling. He picked up his phone from the floor of the passenger side and thanked the heavens for at least having a safe case on his phone. He dialed.

"Hey, Martin, it's me, Andrew," he said, smiling into the phone to try and sound a bit more chipper than he felt. "I'm going to be late, there was an accident on the highway. I'm fine," he told the voicemail, _other than going paying too much for my stupid-ass windshield,_ "And hey, I'm pretty sure I saw Captain America!" He hung up and prayed that would be enough to calm Martin's wrath. After all, if the reports weren't done by 9:45, he'd flip his shit; maybe Captain America sightings during a pile up would make up for it.

He tossed his phone into the back seat. He didn't really want to pick up if Martin tried calling him back. _Should have taken the bus,_ he thought. Maybe next time.


End file.
